


dive slow into new things

by jjokkiri



Category: Produce 101 (TV), UP10TION, X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Recreational Drug Use, but only weishin are idiots, it's a band au, the whole band are best friends actually, weishin are best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 07:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: “You have a way with words. Anyone would think that you’re an expert in love. OnlyIwould know that you’re absolutely clueless.” Jinhyuk’s lips tugged into a grin.Wooseok scoffed, “What is that supposed to mean? I know everything there is to know.”Jinhyuk’s eyes twinkled. “Do you?”





	dive slow into new things

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be wooseok’s birthday fic but i didn’t start writing it until the day of and then missed it. and then, without a deadline, i suddenly decided to completely forget about the fact that this was supposed to be like, 1k. _oh well._
> 
> title from loote’s _are you sure?___

Three years after Kim Wooseok exhaustedly threw himself onto the tattered couch in Lee Jinhyuk’s apartment and declared to his best friend that he was absolutely sick of school and wanted to drop out of university to start a band, _Up & Up_ was making headlines.

It started out as something childish, it started with a little too much hope. It was something that was meant to fall apart after a couple of months and knock the sense back into a group of teenagers who were too prideful and too stupid to realize that their dreams simply weren’t realistic. It was something that was meant to fail and push them to go back to school. It was supposed to be something that doused their burning egos with rationality. No one had any faith in them but no one stopped them.

No one expected them to make it at all. They made it far.

From practicing in the terrible acoustics of Seon Yein’s displeased parents’ garage to performing a venue large enough to hold thousands, _Up & Up_ made it big. The days when even the front row seats of the audience were empty and when their makeshift practice room (reverberating with loud frustration) had a curfew were long gone. They made a name for themselves in music.

It was achieving a dream larger than any of them could have possibly imagined when they impulsively decided to drop out of school and follow Wooseok’s reckless lead. It was a risk they took blindly; a risk that could have ended tragically, but it was a dream that they all kept somewhere in the back of their minds, always. The success of _Up & Up_ was more than any of them could have anticipated when they finally came to the conclusion that school simply was not for them.

They were nineteen when they suddenly dropped everything for the sake of a dream that always felt a little too far away even as they chased it. They all picked up music at different moments in their lives but it was a passion they put on the back-burner for the sake of pursuing a more stable life. Logic and conservative upbringing taught them to chase a life that meant putting themselves through the stress of post-secondary education. It took Wooseok giving up for them to really pick up their dreams and run with it.

It was Wooseok who really dragged his hesitant best friends into it (“Be honest, what could really go wrong?” he asked with a confident grin, his bass guitar lying in his lap, “if it’s the worst thing I’ve ever proposed then we can all just suck it up and go back to school, right? We’ll just graduate a bit later.”).

Seon Yein saw a chance to pursue an abandoned dream to be a singer when the bassist extended his offer for Yein to be the lead vocalist of the band. Yein had been the one to convince Lee Changhyun with a flutter of his lashes and the reminder that he still owed him from a bet they made in their junior years of high school. Changhyun was pleased to be their keyboardist despite Yein’s forceful eyelash fluttering. And Lee Jinhyuk would have done anything for his childhood best friend. He was the last to join them but he was the easiest to convince. Jinhyuk picked up the old drumsticks he left in his childhood bedroom with a good-natured roll of his eyes when Wooseok tailed after him with puppy eyes and a pout of his lips.

Three years after recklessly forming, a group of four boys who hadn’t the slightest idea of where they were headed were adored by the public. They were a rock band fronted by a boy with an angelic voice; something about Seon Yein set them apart from the bands who were trying so hard to make it in the harsh world.

“Can you believe it?” Wooseok exclaimed with a laugh, falling back onto the sofa in their shared apartment. This time, the leather material of the sofa wasn’t tattered. They could afford nicer furniture, now. The twenty-two-year-old man held up the folder in his hands, “They want to send us on a world tour!”

_Up & Up _signed with a management agency in their second year. A representative of TOP Media was eager to sign them when they ran into him at one of their smaller performance venues. After a significant amount of worries about their creative freedom blurred by, Changhyun had been the one to negotiate the terms of the contracts. They weren’t interested in anything more than a management team that could take a little off of their hands so they could focus more on their music. The label was happy to comply with their demands—sent them a manager whose strong eyebrows contrasted his soft heart.

“Will they pay for all of our expenses?” Changhyun asked, leaning over the edge of the sofa to peer at the folder in Wooseok’s hands. The bassist laughed.

“Only the plane tickets,” he replied.

_“Boo,”_ Yein chimed in from the kitchen. The vocalist rounded the counter to approach his bandmates with a salad bowl in his hands. “What’s the point of travelling the world if we can’t buy whatever we want to?”

“No one said you couldn’t buy everything you want,” Jinhyuk looked up from the notebook in his lap. Wooseok looked over at him, noticing his best friend sitting across him in the living room for the first time since he returned from the meeting with their record label. Jinhyuk flashed him a smile when their eyes met.

“I don’t want to pay for it,” Yein replied, chuckling. He shoved a forkful of lettuce into his mouth, “Hey, Jinhyuk. You should buy me everything I want.”

Jinhyuk snorted.

“Why would I do that?”

Yein bat his eyelashes at him, “Because you love me?”

“That eye thing you do only works on Changhyun,” Jinhyuk replied. At that, Changhyun scoffed.

“It doesn’t work on me!” he exclaimed. Wooseok laughed, amused.

“Says the one who joined the band because Yein fluttered his lashes,” he jabbed. Changhyun glared at him.

“I definitely didn’t join _because_ he fluttered his lashes at me,” Changhyun retorted. The keyboardist plucked the folder from Wooseok’s hands and scrunched up his nose. “Yein and I aren’t like you and Jinhyuk.”

Wooseok blinked, the comment catching him off-guard.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned, “Jinhyuk didn’t join the band because I fluttered my lashes at him. I didn’t even flutter my lashes at him—never in my life have I done such a thing.”

Both Yein and Changhyun fixed him with a look—one that he couldn’t quite understand. Changhyun shrugged his shoulders and turned on his heel with the folder still in his hands. Yein shoved another mouthful of vegetables into his mouth and hummed as if he didn’t know a thing. Wooseok was confused.

When Wooseok looked over to his best friend for help in comprehending their bandmates’ questionable remarks, Jinhyuk’s eyes were already focused back on his notebook and the pen in his hand was already moving across the paper, too busy to entertain Wooseok’s questions.

“You’re always so good at that,” Wooseok remarked, peering over Jinhyuk’s shoulder at the lyrics on his sheet of paper. A part of the bassist was always jealous of the way Jinhyuk seemed to be a fountain of endless ideas, spilling lyrics to match the chords Wooseok played on his guitar. Jinhyuk had a talent.

They were lounging in the recording studio at the company, just him and Jinhyuk. They did this often, hanging out together to brainstorm lyrics for their songs. It helped to have a partner-in-crime for everything. To Wooseok, the drummer was exactly that. Jinhyuk did everything with him; it was like that since they were children who were still learning to take their first steps.

Wooseok was sprawled on one of the chairs, doing his best to scribble out lyrics onto a sheet of paper. They were meant to compose a few new songs to unveil during their world tour. Unfortunately for the band, Wooseok’s writing muse hadn’t been kind to him, recently. It helped to have someone else take part in writing their music, though. Wooseok didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Jinhyuk, really.

He watched Jinhyuk write his lyrics, instead.

Jinhyuk raised an eyebrow at him, eyes not moving from his sheet of paper. The chuckle that left his lips clashed with the heartbreaking scrawls across the sheet of paper.

“Good at what?”

With a glance at the taller man, Wooseok sneakily attempted to steal a sip from the cup of hot chocolate sitting to Jinhyuk’s left. Jinhyuk watched him with lingering eyes, amusement on his lips, not bothering to stop Wooseok from stealing his drink. He didn’t mind it in the slightest.

Wooseok had the decency to look sheepish when their eyes met over the rim of the cup. Wooseok lowered the cup with a small smile on his lips. He looked down into his lap, cup rested in his hands.

“Writing sad love songs,” he replied after a moment of thought, “you’re really good at it.”

“Am I?” he questioned. Jinhyuk’s lips pursed into a thin line, thoughtful.

Wooseok probed, “Yeah, why are you so good at it? It isn’t like you’ve ever dated anyone. I’ve known you since we couldn’t even walk in a straight line—you’ve never even shown interest in anyone.”

Jinhyuk laughed and shook his head.

He took the cup back from Wooseok, warm fingers brushing with Wooseok’s. Jinhyuk took a sip of the hot chocolate, taking a moment to thoughtfully watch Wooseok’s expression. The taller man leaned back in his chair, making a show of pondering his thoughts before he conjured a response.

Jinhyuk’s eyes lingered on him for a moment too long. There was a glimmer in his eyes, almost captivating. The drummer looked back down at his notebook.

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe I just have a really good imagination.”

They were twenty-three when they took their first flight across the ocean to Japan for the first stop of their tour. It was late August. Tokyo welcomed them with loud shouts and bright lights. There was a high that came from the heat of the summer and the heat of the crowd. 

_Up & Up _get completely hammered riding high on their first successful tour stop.

The countless shots of liquor the bassist knocked back were glorified as celebratory shots meant for Changhyun’s birthday. It would have made sense if the shots were poured for Changhyun himself. But it didn’t matter too much that the excuses were flimsy and meaningless; the keyboardist was well on his way to mindless intoxication.

Already too drunk, Yein’s hands were clumsy when he poured another round of shots for them. 

“I think that’s enough,” Han Gyujin’s hands reached to stop the vocalist’s hands. He moved the overfilled shot glass away from the lead vocalist, an easy slide across the wooden surface of the table. The liquor spilled from the lip of the bottle onto the table when Yein’s clumsy hands were knocked further off balance.

Yein immediately whirled around to look at their manager, devastated.

“Gyujin, no!” he cried, trying to take the shot glass back from the younger man.

Gyujin shook his head firmly. He reached for the bottle in Yein’s hands, “You’re drunk.”

“It’s Changhyun’s birthday!” Yein exclaimed, hugging the bottle to himself. Gyujin sighed, heavily.

“It’s Changhyun’s birthday, not yours,” he replied, still trying to pry the bottle away from the vocalist. “You shouldn’t be drinking so much. If you can’t practice tomorrow because you’ve lost your voice from taking too many shots, the band will be mad at _me_.”

“What are you talking about? We won’t be mad at you!” Wooseok yelled out at him, despite their close proximity. Gyujin flinched at the sound of Wooseok’s voice, loud and piercing. Yein echoed it, insistent.

Gyujin rubbed his ear to soothe the pain of Wooseok’s loud voice. He knew better to trust a drunk man. In a quiet voice, he murmured, “I’m going to need that statement on paper, signed with a witness.”

“I’ll be your witness,” Jinhyuk’s amused voice came like a heaven-sent tinkle compared to the loud voices of his drunkenly slurring bandmates. Gyujin’s eyes met with his, entirely too grateful for the drummer’s sober state. They shared a knowing look—without Jinhyuk, Gyujin might have quit his job long ago.

While they weren’t looking at him, Yein snatched the shot glass back from Gyujin. With excitement, he raised it to Changhyun and Wooseok. They both downed their shots with him, thrilled.

“How are we going to get them home?” Gyujin asked, hopelessly. Jinhyuk chuckled.

The drummer’s eyes were rested on Wooseok’s profile and he tilted his head with a smile, impossibly fond. He looked back at their manager with a shrug of his shoulders, “Well, I mean, if you want to carry Yein home, I’m pretty sure I can manage Changhyun and Wooseok. They look like they’re capable of walking.”

“Wooseok can’t walk,” Gyujin remarked. Jinhyuk turned his head to look at Wooseok again.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “He can lean on me.”

In Fukuoka, after a stressful shopping trip that had Yein falling in love with a giant plush bear, the band came to the conclusion that Yein had an enormous crush on their manager and never told them.

Even better, they came to the rash conclusion that Yein was already dating their manager and never bothered to tell them about it. The suspicions about the relationship only came to light when Yein clung to the younger man and pleaded for the plush bear to be sent back to their apartment in Seoul (with Gyujin’s wallet taking the hit for it). It was Changhyun who proposed the theory and Wooseok immediately bought it. When presented, it was shot down by an extremely flustered Yein who insisted that they weren’t dating.

Disbelief and the need to succumb to mischievous antics had the band quickly formulating a plan for the vocalist and their manager to sort out their unspoken feelings. The band abandoned the pair in the hotel room and took the key cards with them, preventing either man from leaving the hotel room.

Changhyun took his key card and disappeared into the bustling city’s night market with a promise to return safely in the morning. Wooseok and Jinhyuk didn’t go far.

“I can’t believe Yein never told us that he liked Gyujin,” Wooseok huffed and his breath left his lips in a puff of smoke. The weather was getting colder. “I can’t believe that Yein is the first to find someone.”

“He isn’t obligated to tell us that he likes someone,” Jinhyuk chuckled.

They were standing on the rooftop of their hotel.

The city lights flickered beneath them and there was a gentle gust of wind that carded through their hair. Somehow, it reminded Wooseok of one of the love songs Jinhyuk showed him the lyrics to—one of the songs he was too afraid to publish because the emotions sounded too raw. Something about the flickering lights of the cityscape—too pretty and somehow unreachable because it was only meant to be admired from a distance—reminded him of a love song his best friend wrote. It was almost too cliché.

“We’re his best friends,” Wooseok argued, “Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“Maybe because he didn’t know if Gyujin liked him back,” Jinhyuk suggested. Wooseok rolled his eyes.

“Anyone with _eyes_ knew that Gyujin liked him,” he replied. Jinhyuk leaned against the rail and turned his head to look at Wooseok, silently studying him for a moment; considering. When the younger man turned to look him in the eye, questioning his silence, Jinhyuk turned his attention back to the view before them.

“You’re an expert on love, huh?” Jinhyuk laughed. There was amusement in his eyes, “Really?”

“Well,” he replied, huffing, “I’m pretty good at writing songs about it, don’t you think?”

“You are,” Jinhyuk mused. His lips tugged into a grin, “You have a way with words. Anyone would think that you’re an expert in love. Only _I_ would know that you’re absolutely clueless.”

Wooseok scoffed, “What is that supposed to mean? I know everything there is to know.”

Jinhyuk’s eyes twinkled. “Do you?”

Wooseok tilted his head, confident in himself. “Of course.”

Jinhyuk didn’t answer him. The taller man shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, quiet. They fell into a comfortable silence. Years of friendship accustomed them to the peace of quiet moments. They lived their lives on the stage with blasting speakers and loud music—peace and quiet was a treasured rarity.

Wooseok broke the silence between them with curiosity.

“What about you, Jinhyuk?” he asked. Wooseok’s hands gripped on the railing and he tilted himself back on the heels of his feet. He looked up at the sky, “When do you think you’ll date someone?”

He turned his head to meet Jinhyuk’s dark eyes.

The drummer hummed softly, lips pursed in thought. There was a familiar, captivatingly mysterious glitter in his eyes. Jinhyuk turned his gaze away from Wooseok’s eyes after a moment.

Then, wistfully, he answered, “I don’t know.”

The thrill of the stage got the best of them in Los Angeles.

Or at least it got the best of Wooseok.

On top of the high of the concert, the bassist was high out of his mind. The organization staff had jokingly offered him a hit after the concert. They were celebrating the end of a successful night with the organization staff as they usually did; they booked a floor of a nightclub for their celebrations. There were countless bottles of alcohol scattered across the tables in the hall and a barely sober Wooseok hadn’t seen a good enough reason to turn drugs down. His mind was curious.

Jinhyuk found his best friend lying on the sofa in one of the private rooms, barely conscious.

The drummer took it upon himself to take Wooseok back to their hotel. Wooseok was light—Jinhyuk lifted him off his feet several times before—but the alcohol made him a deadweight leaning against Jinhyuk’s arm, clinging onto him desperately. It made the walk a little more difficult. Jinhyuk didn’t mind it.

“Watch your step,” Jinhyuk murmured as he guided Wooseok to the elevator of their hotel.

He stumbled over his feet despite Jinhyuk’s warning. Jinhyuk caught him as the elevator doors closed behind them. The taller man’s arms were warm around his body and Wooseok instinctively moved closer.

“You’ve got me,” Wooseok replied, giggling. He buried his face into Jinhyuk’s shoulder, unreasonably giggling, “You won’t let me hurt myself.”

Jinhyuk sighed.

He wrapped his arms around his best friend’s waist with a shake of his head. And at that moment, when they were completely alone, Jinhyuk let himself bury his face into Wooseok’s hair and inhale his scent.

“You’re right,” he mumbled into the top of Wooseok’s head, as they waited for the elevator to take them up the floors to their room. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

Amsterdam in early-January nearly tore them apart.

Every band had its ups and downs. There were always moments when they simply couldn’t get along with one another because their opinions were too different—_Up & Up’s_ issues nearly tore them apart, halfway across the world from home. Disagreements built up like an unstable stack of Jenga blocks; Wooseok and Yein pulled away from one another just like an elastic band stretched to its limit. Their patience ticked down and they couldn’t even manage to be in the same room.

The heavy threat of disbanding in the middle of the world tour hung in the air, atmosphere thick. With their lead vocalist and bassist on opposite ends of agreement, the band was unnerved.

It was a mess Changhyun and Jinhyuk had to deal with.

Jinhyuk left Changhyun to talk to Yein when Wooseok stormed out of the room with an aggravated groan. He chased Wooseok down into the other hotel room where he found the younger man tuning his bass, annoyance defeating effectiveness. The guitar was quickly forgotten on the bed when Jinhyuk walked into the hotel room. Wooseok stood up and ran his fingers through his now-red hair in frustration.

“_We’ve_ never fought like this, Jinhyuk!” Wooseok exclaimed. He crossed his arms over his chest, “Why can’t I get along with people like I get along with you?”

The drummer frowned, “You’ve never fought like this with Yein, either. You two get along fine.”

“Well, we’re not getting along fine right now!”

“Wooseok,” Jinhyuk started, softly. He pushed himself off the wall and moved closer to his best friend. Jinhyuk took a seat on the bed, “Sit down for a moment, you need to breathe a little bit.”

It took more than words to calm Wooseok down. The bassist was worked up from the argument with Yein and he simply wouldn’t calm down because Jinhyuk told him to. The red-haired man turned with his arms crossed over his chest and huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m breathing,” he retorted. _He wasn’t._

Jinhyuk reached out to grab his best friend’s hand.

“Wooseok,” he repeated. His fingers gently rubbed the back of Wooseok’s hand, soothing. His eyes found the younger man’s eyes and Jinhyuk tilted his head. His voice was soft, “You’re never going to get along with everyone perfectly all the time—it’s normal to have differences—you _are_ different people. But, I want you to think about if this is worth it. You’re fighting with Yein now and I understand that you’re angry because this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” He paused and studied him, quietly, “but I want you to tell me if this argument is worth throwing away everything we’ve worked for in these past years.”

The bassist’s eyes softened at the statement. With a huff, he fell back on the bed.

He squeezed Jinhyuk’s hand.

“It’s not worth it,” he muttered into the pillow. “I’m still pissed, though.”

Jinhyuk chuckled, “And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to have your moments when you’re angry and you don’t want to apologize, but you also need to make up with him. For us.”

Wooseok was quiet for a moment, completely still save the gentle movement of his chest as he breathed. Jinhyuk had known him long enough to know that Wooseok was simply thinking—taking in Jinhyuk’s words and really considering them at face value. He watched him, silently.

“What if he’s still going to be a brat about it?”

Jinhyuk snorted, “As I’m trying to calm you down, Changhyun is calming him down. You and I both know Yein well enough to know that he’s more likely to bawl his eyes out when you come to him to apologize.”

“_I_ have to do it first?” Wooseok huffed. Jinhyuk squeezed his hand with a soft laugh.

“One of you have to,” he replied. “If you’re not stubborn about it, we can probably squeeze in some practice before the show, you know?”

Wooseok half-heartedly glared at him.

(Yein cried in Wooseok’s arms when they apologized to one another for overreacting.)

In Manila, the sky kissed the horizon with a tinge of pink and orange in the afternoon. It cast a golden light into the bay windows of the hotel’s lounge and touched Wooseok’s face. The bassist had been sitting in the lounge writing lyrics but had fallen asleep in the sunlight. The warmth of the sunlight and the quiet of the lounge had lulled him into a slumber. He fell asleep with his notebook still open and his pen gently gripped between his slender fingers.

Jinhyuk joined him in the lounge after Wooseok had fallen asleep, careful to seat himself where he would block the sunlight from shaking Wooseok out of his slumber. He was careful when he closed the notebook lying open beside Wooseok and a little more when he gently pried the pen from his hands. The bassist hadn’t slept properly in days. He didn’t do well with sleeping on the plane. The dark circles under his eyes, not currently covered by makeup, showed it clearly. Jinhyuk’s heart clenched at the sight of it.

Still, Wooseok was breathtaking.

The peaceful silence between them lasted as long as it took for Jinhyuk to scribble rough lyrics for three different songs, the soft sound of Wooseok’s breath guiding his focus.

Their peace was disturbed by Changhyun’s gentle footsteps.

He approached them with caution—a quiet glance to the sleeping bassist and then a hesitant look to Jinhyuk. Jinhyuk acknowledged him with an arch of his brow before he resumed writing. Changhyun flashed him a smile; a silent exchange, careful to not wake Wooseok up as the environment around him shifted.

Changhyun took a seat next to the drummer, quiet. Jinhyuk continued to scribble in his notebook, waiting for the keyboard player to break the silence and voice his own thoughts.

Changhyun took his time grasping his words.

He found them soon enough.

His voice was gentle when he asked, “When are you going to tell him?”

Jinhyuk’s lips tugged into a smile, forced. He kept his eyes on the notebook in front of him.

His pen paused above the sheet of paper.

“Tell him what?”

Changhyun pursed his lips, studying Jinhyuk’s profile for a long moment. His eyes moved to where Wooseok lay asleep on the sofa. The silence was extended and it had Jinhyuk’s eyes raising from where they were pretending to focus on his notebook. Jinhyuk followed Changhyun’s gaze to Wooseok’s sleeping figure. And the forced smile on his lips subconsciously faltered, replaced with a fonder smile.

Changkyun’s lips tugged into a knowing smile. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “I thought you just might have something you wanted him to know.”

Early March took them back to the States. It took them to New York.

New York was a blur for the most part.

Between alcohol and the bright lights on stage, everything seemed to mesh together. The nights were the same, constant stream of excitement and screaming. The music was the same—the music was them. 

And though everything seemed to blend together, indiscernible, Wooseok retained one vivid image in his head. He remembered catching the eyes of a female staff member before she whisked Jinhyuk away into the crowd of people, away from him.

He remembered taking one too many shots after that.

He remembered trying to quell the uncomfortable twisting sensation in his gut.

He didn’t know why.

“You should date someone,” Yein declared when they were back in their apartment in Seoul. They were lounging on the sofa in their living room, watching a movie. The movie played as background noise while Yein played on his phone, though. Wooseok stared at him, bewildered. The bassist frowned.

“Are you talking to me?”

“No,” Yein answered, simply. “I’m talking to the guy behind you.”

Wooseok turned his head to look behind him. Yein rolled his eyes.

“Obviously I’m talking to you,” he replied. The vocalist looked at Wooseok for a long moment. “Have you ever thought about dating anyone? You’re always writing love songs but do you have any interest in actually having a relationship at any point in your life?”

Wooseok furrowed his brows, “Are my recent songs subpar or something?”

Yein frowned, “No, it’s not that. Your songs are fine. I wouldn’t sing them if they sucked.”

“Then?”

“I’m just curious,” Yein told him.

“Why would you be curious about something like that?”

“I was just wondering if you were ever going to be interested in anyone romantically,” he side-eyed him, “hypothetically, because we’re not considering the fact that you’re horribly difficult to get along with if someone doesn’t know your sense of humour, of course.”

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t get along with everyone the way I get along with Jinhyuk,” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. The bassist sniffed, dramatically feigning offence at Yein’s words, “He’s the only one who gets me and accepts me for everything I am.”

The vocalist rolled his eyes. He shoved his foot against Wooseok’s thigh, a weak attempt at a kick. Yein tapped at something on his phone, quiet for a brief moment. He looked up, blond locks falling into his eyes.

Yein’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, “What about Jinhyuk, then?”

It caught Wooseok off guard.

“Jinhyuk?” Wooseok blinked, “What _about_ Jinhyuk?”

“What if you date Jinhyuk?” Yein clarified. “He’s the only one who gets you, right?”

Wooseok hesitated. Yein’s eyes pried, seemingly burning through Wooseok’s skull.

The bassist tore his eyes away.

He snorted, “What are you talking about? He’s my best friend. We’ve known one another since we could barely walk. Of course, he’s the only one who gets me.” He looked down at his hands, huffing out a vaguely amused sound, “Why would he ever want to date me? That’s so weird.”

“The question isn’t if he _wants _to date you,” Yein rolled his eyes, “it’s if _you_ would date _him_.”

Wooseok made a face. Something strange brewed in Wooseok’s chest, confusing.

“He’s my best friend,” he managed to utter through the confusion.

Yein dropped the topic, a simple _“okay, then!”_ lingering in the air between them.

It left Wooseok stuck in his thoughts. _What?_

“You won’t believe what Yein told me the other day,” Wooseok dropped himself onto the sofa in Jinhyuk’s studio and threw his legs up onto the armrest. He leaned over the edge of the sofa and peered at where Jinhyuk was crouched by the plugs.

He didn’t wait for the drummer to acknowledge his presence. “He told me that I should think about dating. Actually, he just straight-up told me that I should date someone.”

The hesitance in Jinhyuk’s movements, the tension in his figure must have been a figment of Wooseok’s imagination. He brushed it off without another thought. He turned away from the drummer, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He made himself comfortable on the sofa.

“Do you want to date someone?” Jinhyuk asked. He sounded unsure of himself.

“Do I need to?” Wooseok huffed, “Do you think that my music sucks too? I was thinking that Yein was trying to imply that I needed some real dating experience to improve my songwriting skills.”

“I’d never think that,” Jinhyuk replied. “I don’t think Yein was trying to say that, either.”

Wooseok rolled his eyes, “Tell Yein that you think my music is great and I don’t need real experience to keep writing for us.” Jinhyuk raised an eyebrow at him, silently questioning him (“I think everyone already knows I would take your side no matter what they said,” his eyes seemed to read. Wooseok believed it).

Yein hadn’t actually said anything truly offensive about his music but Wooseok liked overthinking—it was simply in his nature. He jammed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, annoyed, “_Gosh,_ what does he expect from me, anyway? I’m sorry I’m not some natural-born genius of a lyricist like you.”

“I’m not a natural-born genius,” Jinhyuk told him, amused, “I just write down my feelings.”

“Your feelings make us good money,” Wooseok replied. Jinhyuk chuckled at that. “I thought you said you were just good at imagining what romance felt like.”

Jinhyuk snorted, “We’re twenty-four, Wooseok. I think all of us know what heartbreak feels like.”

Wooseok glanced at him as he stood up from where he was crouched on the ground. Jinhyuk moved over to the mixing board and took a seat on the chair there. He turned to look at him.

“I didn’t know you ever dated anyone to feel heartbreak,” Wooseok remarked.

“I don’t have to date someone to know what heartbreak feels like,” he replied. Something about his words felt a little empty. Something in Wooseok’s chest twinged. “Sometimes, heartbreak is not getting to open your favourite box of cereal as a child. Sometimes, it’s that feeling of not wanting to disappoint someone because they expected better from you. Heartbreak can come in a million different forms; sometimes, it’s all just unrequited love that wants to kill you.”

Wooseok frowned. There was something settled between them, tense.

Worry rose in Wooseok’s chest. He blinked at his best friend.

Jinhyuk shook the atmosphere off quickly.

“Do you want to find someone, though? Do you want to date someone?” Jinhyuk asked. His lips tugged into a small smile, a little weak and barely reaching his eyes, “Does anyone catch the elusive Kim Wooseok’s eye? Is anyone good enough for you?”

Wooseok pursed his lips. He placed his phone back down onto his stomach.

He thought about it for a moment.

He sniffed, “I’ll find someone when you do.”

“What if I already have someone I’m interested in?” Jinhyuk asked, quietly.

Wooseok furrowed his brows.

“Without telling me?”

That uncomfortable twisting sensation returned to his gut. Wooseok remembered the feeling from when they were in New York. He suddenly remembered the face of the female staff member who pulled Jinhyuk away from him in the crowd of people—he didn’t like it.

“I don’t have to tell everyone if I like someone, right?” Jinhyuk answered. Wooseok frowned.

“Not even me?”

“Maybe I didn’t want anyone to know about it. Maybe I was scared just like Yein was before he and Gyujin started dating,” Jinhyuk replied, softly. He looked down at his hands, nervously playing with his fingers. “Maybe I didn’t tell anyone because I was just scared that they didn’t like me back.”

“Anyone would be blessed to have someone like you like them,” Wooseok replied. “You’re amazing.”

“Amazing, huh?” Jinhyuk looked away. He struggled with putting his words together for a moment. He frowned, “Well, I’m flattered that you think so. I think you’d be surprised if you knew who it was.”

_If he knew_—a part of Wooseok’s mind harped at him: _‘you don’t want to know, don’t be silly’_.

He brushed it off.

Jinhyuk was an independent person and Wooseok couldn’t keep him to himself for the rest of their lives. He couldn’t keep Jinhyuk with him forever because they were best friends, he couldn’t tie a person down with a label to their relationship and the desperate need to keep Jinhyuk by his side. He couldn’t be selfish when it came to someone who had always been by his side. At some point in his life, he knew he had to let go of Jinhyuk for the drummer to find his own happiness, his own romance.

And maybe, this was a start to whatever Jinhyuk’s own happiness was.

“Are you going to tell me? We’re best friends,” Wooseok said. He couldn’t pinpoint what the turmoil in his gut was. It was an uncomfortable swirl of emotions, a confusing storm in his mind. His voice trailed off, “I always thought that I would be the first person to know if you ever liked someone.”

“Maybe, I didn’t say anything _because_ we’re best friends,” Jinhyuk murmured.

When Wooseok looked up at him, confused, Jinhyuk’s eyes met with his. This time, Jinhyuk’s found his and the taller man was willing to answer all the questions Wooseok had.

There was that familiar glimmer in his eyes, searching. This time, it was shrouded with a veil of fear.

The world moved in slow motion when he realized: it had always been him. All these years, when Jinhyuk looked at him, Wooseok never realized that he was looking _at_ him. It was always him.

And he wondered how he did it—how he was always so unaware of everything around him while being so immersed in everything around him. How, after all these years, he never once noticed that Jinhyuk was looking at _him_. He wondered how he failed to realize it when Jinhyuk followed him halfway across the world to fulfill a dream that wasn’t entirely his from the beginning.

How had he not realized after all the time they spent together, after everything they did together, that while the world continued to revolve around them as the Earth orbited the sun, Lee Jinhyuk’s world revolved around him. Around Kim Wooseok.

Somehow, the uncomfortable swirl of emotions turned into something different—something lighter but equally as suffocating. It felt warmer.

Wooseok gaped at his best friend. Jinhyuk’s gaze felt heavy on him, unwavering.

“… you’re in love with me,” he murmured, somehow sounding so amazed at the realization.

Jinhyuk laughed, a breathless sound escaping his lips as air. The taller man looked away from him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “something like that.”

_“Me,”_ Wooseok repeated, impossibly quiet, disbelief clouding his eyes. The amazement laced in his tone never left his voice and his eyes never moved from where they focused on Jinhyuk’s profile. Slowly, he sat up from his position on the sofa, “You’re in love with me? How long have you been in love with me?”

Jinhyuk rested his elbows on his knees, feet planted against the floor to ground himself (and all of his feelings). He shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

“Years,” he answered. He stared at the floor, “I’ve written songs about you since the beginning.”

Dumbfounded, the younger man stared up at him, eyes wide with fascination; almost childish. His heartbeat quickened by the moment. The warmth in his chest felt like an addictive rhythm thrumming in his veins, slowly spreading across his body. _All of Jinhyuk’s songs were about him._

“It’s embarrassing, Wooseok,” Jinhyuk exhaled. The drummer stood up from his seat. He towered over Wooseok, who was still seated on the sofa. He fixed the younger man with a silent stare, “I don’t know why I’m telling you. I don’t know what you’re going to do with this information, really. I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings—it’s okay, real experiences help you write better songs, right?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious. He avoided Wooseok’s gaze.

He sighed, “You can just forget about all—”

“How could I?” Wooseok cut him off, wide eyes never leaving Jinhyuk’s. “How could I do that to you?”

Jinhyuk turned to look at him, “There’s nothing else you can do.”

Wooseok frowned. He looked down at his hands, “… what does it feel like to be in love with someone?” he asked, “What does it feel like to be in love with me?”

Jinhyuk laughed, a quiet sound of disbelief. He looked contemplative as if he were considering if he really wanted to venture the topic aloud. He humoured Wooseok, always so kind to him despite his own heart.

“It sucks,” he replied, simply. Jinhyuk pressed his lips together in a thin line, “It feels like an overwhelming urge to always want you to smile but also wanting to be the one to make you smile, no matter how impossible it is. Being in love with you comes with those moments when you’re laughing with someone else and leaning on them and it makes me think: _damn, that should be me._ But then, it feels like wanting to be by your side no matter what because I want nothing more than to do that. It’s all of that and knowing that I have to accept the fact that you’re never going to look at me as more than your best friend, the boy you grew up with. And that’s okay but it sucks, sometimes.”

They fell quiet.

Wooseok raised his eyes to meet with Jinhyuk’s.

“So, then…” he cleared his throat. Wooseok toyed with his own fingers, “can you tell me what it means if I get unreasonably annoyed when I see you with other people? What does it mean when I hate it when I see other people put their hands on you and pull you away from me? If it bothers me for months on end?”

Jinhyuk watched him, careful eyes on his best friend; cautious. He swallowed.

He looked away, “I can’t tell you what that means. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know what it really means—maybe I’m not that love expert I thought I was, huh?” he laughed at himself, a short breath of air. He looked up at Jinhyuk, eyes searching the older man’s. “I don’t know what any of it means if I’m honest with myself—I write songs about a feeling I don’t even understand. I don’t know anything but I know that I don’t want to see you with someone else if that someone can be me.”

Wooseok bit down on his lower lip.

Jinhyuk stared at him, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Can I ask you for one more selfish thing, Jinhyuk?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Anything.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Jinhyuk took a deep, sharp breath. He nodded.

(The next time they’re in Fukuoka, Wooseok wraps himself up in the warm material of Jinhyuk’s jacket on the rooftop of their hotel, more addicted to the warmth of Jinhyuk’s body than willing to hide from the gentle breeze. This time, when Jinhyuk’s eyes glimmer with that familiar gleam, Wooseok kisses him.

They move slowly with Jinhyuk holding Wooseok’s hand to guide him. He isn’t familiar with love but he’s familiar with Jinhyuk. And Jinhyuk felt like home no matter where they were—somewhere halfway across the world, they still found their way into one another’s arms.

Wooseok thinks that love is just that.)

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/yuseokki) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjokkiri) ♡  
ask me if i know what i’m doing. i _don’t_. still.
> 
> and that band name? i just want the up10s together… i miss them so much ㅠㅠ


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